


feel like a person for a moment of my life

by aletterinthenameofsanity



Series: flowers never bend with the rainfall [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Bisexual Character, Character Development, Detectives, Don't worry, Internalized Acephobia, Lesbian Character, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Recovery, everyone fucking up and learning from their mistakes, not btw Merlin and Arthur
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-01-05 01:04:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18355421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aletterinthenameofsanity/pseuds/aletterinthenameofsanity
Summary: Even the strongest people break sometimes. The trick lies not in stopping yourself from breaking, but in getting back up afterwards.(A story following Arthur, Gwen, Morgana, Gwaine, and Merlin as they navigate adulthood, relationships, sexuality, abuse, religion, and growing up.)





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "To Be Alone" by Hozier.
> 
> Due to spoilers, I will be tagging certain warnings when the chapters they appear in are posted.

****_ Here's what they don't tell you: when you called the Chief on him, it wasn't just for yourself. It was for every other victim, for those who screamed through the same abuse you did. _

_ Here’s a fact: it will never be about forgiving him. You know the people he's hurt. You know the damage he could- and would- have caused. You know that if you had let him go, he would have hurt even more people. _

_ Another fact: you will never regret what you did to escape the nightmare. Your world may burn, but you will never regret what you did to run. _

_ Here's a question: does it make you a coward to choose someone else's pain instead of your own happiness? _

_ After all, there is always a choice. _

_ Be everything the world expects of a victim. Cry, quiver, cower. Spend the rest of your life letting his memory rule your life. Let him seep into your nightmares, let his abuse stain your being. Let the blood never leave your skin, let it poison your every breath, let yourself drown in that which will not let you be. _

_ Or be nothing they expect. Lash out, scream, fight back.  _

_ You have been violated, and your pain, your justice, is okay. It is  _ more  _ than okay- it is natural. It is  _ necessary _.  _ _ You should never feel ashamed of surviving. _

_ Do whatever feels most comfortable. Remember, you don't owe the world a thing. You don't have to be anything than what you need to be.  _

_ You are bigger than the blood in your veins. You are more than the bathroom tiles. _

_ One last fact: it was  _ never _ about him. _


	2. Day One: Merlin

**** “It's time to get out of bed, clotpole,” Merlin tries to cajole Arthur out of bed. Arthur just stares at Merlin. Merlin can see, to his numb horror, the dried blood on Arthur’s lips where he bit himself to keep his screams locked in. Over the past few months, Merlin has gotten reluctantly used to sometimes waking up to the evidence of a horror movie laying beside him in bed.

(When Merlin and Arthur first started dating, Merlin resigned himself to Arthur bringing his work home with him. He resolved himself to consoling Arthur after the worst of cases, the cruelest of deeds. How is it that the thing that finally brought down the ever-confident Detective Arthur Pendragon was not a case, but something far more personal?)

Arthur nods and peels himself out from under the covers. He moves slowly but quietly, grabbing his clothes from the end of the bed where he set them out last night before heading for the bathroom. Staring at his partner’s retreating back, Merlin can almost pretend that this is just like any other morning, that Arthur’ll emerge from the bathroom with a bad Dad-joke and a confident grin.

But he’s trying to fool himself- this is obviously going to be a Bad Day. From the evidence on Arthur’s mouth to his silence, Merlin knows that things won’t be normal.

So Merlin just gets out of bed and grabs his clothes from their spot next to Arthur's. He changes into slacks and a green button down- plenty nice enough for work- and tucks his pjs under the pillow for tonight.

Merlin then heads down to the kitchen and glances at the clock. 6:20. Well, shit. He's late.

Thank God they packed their lunches last night- with the time it took to get Arthur out of bed and moving, they don't have time to get lunches together. Merlin barely has time to grab the lunchboxes out of the fridge and start making a real quick breakfast.

-

By the time Arthur emerges from the bathroom, lips clean, Merlin has breakfast ready. Protein bars and shakes for the both of them.

Arthur is tall and well-built, the lines of his dark blue suit only emphasizing his height and bringing out his blue eyes. His pale face is clean shaven, his golden hair combed back neatly. He looks every inch the brilliant detective that Merlin fell in love with two years ago, not the haunted creature that inhabited their bed this morning. 

“You ready for work?” Merlin asks softly.

Arthur sighs. Merlin has become far too used to that small sound, which communicates so little yet so much at the same time. “I will be,” he says, and Merlin tries not to get frustrated with Arthur's extreme ambivalence.

_ It's just one of Arthur's Bad Days,  _ he reminds himself.  _ Everything will be better tomorrow. _

“Great,” Merlin says, scooping up his keys off of the table by the kitchen door. “Hope you have a good day, princey!”

Arthur manages a small, fragile smile. “You too, sweetheart.”

Merlin grins, bolstered by Arthur's attempt at affection. Arthur feeling better definitely makes him feel better. “And give Morgana my love, alright?”

“Of course,” Arthur says, this time offering up a genuine smile. Any mention of his best friend tends to do that. Merlin is pretty sure they both have that weakness. “Tell Gwen the same, okay?”

"Deal," Merlin says as he exits with a small wave and a blown kiss. Arthur may not be very good with physical affection on the Bad Days, but displays like this seem to be perfectly fine.

He then heads to the card, whispering a small prayer under his breath as he goes. By the Gods, he hopes this day gets better for both him and Arthur going forward.

- 

Merlin opens the door into the teacher's lounge and finds, as always, Gwaine and Gwen debating politics. Today's topic is the electoral college, with Gwen, the government teacher, arguing in favor, while Gwaine, the U.S. History teacher, argues against.

Merlin smiles at the sight, reassuring in its normalcy. Gwen Walker has been his best friend since childhood (they'd even gone to the same college as each other, pursuing similar degrees in World History and Government), and though he's only known Gwaine Rogers for the three years he's worked here, he feels just as close to Gwaine.

Gwen and Gwaine could easily be mistaken for siblings, with their similarly dark brown skin and black hair. Gwen’s hair is straightened while Gwaine’s is shaved short, but the similiarities are still there. The way they constantly argue certainly doesn't dissuade such an impression either.

“Emrys!” Gwaine calls when he sees Merlin, and Merlin grins.

“Hey, Rogers! How’re the kids?”

“Period 3 Even are still causing a racket, but everyone else seems to have settled down,” Gwaine answers as Merlin opens up the staff fridge and slides the lunch he and Arthur made last night into the shelf. “Thank god we've finally hit October.”

“How's Arthur?” Gwen asks, and Merlin's face falls. Gwaine and Gwen exchange a look.

“It's a Bad Day, isn't it?” Gwaine asks.

Merlin nods, and Gwaine sighs. “It's been six months- shouldn't he be getting better by now?”

Gwen punches him in the arm. “No, you dick,” she says, “What Arthur went through was incredibly traumatic, and not everyone recovers from that kind of thing quickly. Let him recover at his own pace.”

Gwaine holds his hands up in a gesture of peace. “Sorry, Ms. AP Psych,” he says, “Didn't realize I would be poking the bear.”

Merlin, though, doesn't want to dwell on Arthur’s bad start to the day. He hates thinking of Arthur suffering. Instead, he wants to focus on school and the kids. “So,” he says, “We've got a month until the fall play. Gwen, how are things coming along?”

Gwen’s been helping co-direct the school play for three years now, and mention of the play is always guaranteed to distract Merlin's best friend. (Merlin still hasn’t quite determined, though, if it’s because she loves theatre so much, or if she just has one  _ giant  _ crush on Mithian Patel, the theatre teacher.)

“The play's going well, thanks,” Gwen says, “Mithian and I have epic plans for this year’s cast. Did you know we have a set of twins to work with this year? God, this’ll be so awesome.”

“It'll certainly be something,” Gwaine says, and she elbows him again. “You know, if you keep going you'll leave a bruise.”

“And you'll deserve it, if you keep going on like that.”

“Like what?”

Merlin smirks as he grabs the stack of copies of  _Things Fall Apart_  from his desk. They're on loan from the English Department (specifically, one Nimueh Peterson, who'd threatened to have his balls if the books were returned in less pristine condition than he had received them in). "Like the clotpole you are."

"Ooh," Gwaine coos, "I must be special today- normally only the Princess gets to be called that."

Merlin rolls his eyes. "Fuck off, Rogers."

"Think of the children," Gwaine pleas, but even he can't keep a straight face when he says that. Gwaine is well-known among the staff for his legendary mouth and among their friend group for the fact that on their Wednesday night trips to the bar (or at least, their former Wednesday night trips to the bar, before they switched over to the diner), he can easily be found flirting with every stranger in sight.

(Gwaine Rogers is an interesting specimen of a man, full of contradictions and quite fascinating behaviors. He swears like a sailor and flirts constantly, but is a dedicated father and teacher who cares about his students and his two children more than anything else in the world.)

"I'll think of the children when you do the same," Merlin replies, heading for the door. He wants to set a copy of the book on each desk before his first period kids get in.

"See you for lunch, Merlin," Gwen says, blowing him a kiss, and Merlin grins as he opens the door by dropping his elbow against the handle, once again thanking the lord that this door doesn't have a handle. It makes his life so much easier to navigate this way.

"Same to you, Gwennie," he says, using an old childhood nickname, and she's behind him by this point so Merlin can't see her reaction, but he knows she's rolling her eyes.

"You  _do_ know the man's taken, right, Walker?" Merlin hears Gwaine ask Gwen as the door to the teacher's lounge falls shut behind Merlin.

Gwen's reply is barely audible through the door. "Bestie privilege, Rogers," Gwen says, voice practically dripping with sarcasm, and gods, does he love that woman.

But Merlin's got shit to do, so he heads down the hallway to his classroom. He has students to teach, lives to change, and a boyfriend to-

He swallows back the thoughts of Arthur waking up this morning and replaces them with happy thoughts of how he'll (hopefully) see Arthur this evening at the diner, with a smile on Arthur's face without the shadow of a nightmare over his expression.


	3. Day One: Morgana

“Hey, Pendragon-” The greeting slips out of Morgana’s mouth when she looks up from her desk to see her partner slipping into the room, his posture off. Normally Arthur is brimming with some obscure fact that Merlin brought him or some bad joke not even tangentially related to the case. Now, though, his face looks somewhat sallow and his lips bear the marks of him biting down on them from nightmares.

_Shit. This must be a Bad Day._

Morgana bites her lip. She’s not gonna confront him about this, not gonna try and comfort him either. She gets Bad Days too- she knows to give him a bit of space.

“You remember food?” she asks as he arrives at his desk. On Bad Days, Arthur has a habit of forgetting that he needs to eat. She doesn’t blame him, but it _is_ a nasty habit to get into.

Arthur nods, a fond smile overtaking his face. “Merlin handed my breakfast and lunch to me as I went out the door.”

Right, Merlin. Arthur’s boyfriend of two and a half years, who Morgana can’t quite decide if she likes yet. On the one hand, he certainly cares about Arthur and is absolutely _nothing_ like Cenred, but on the other hand, she can’t really stand his friends and finds his boundless optimism rather annoying. For now, she tolerates him and even, sometimes, begrudgingly respects him. If someone can get Arthur to smile on a Bad Day, then that person is at least worth keeping around.

“Good,” she says as he sits down at his desk. He plops down his satchel on the desk and pulls out a few case files, his phone, and a bag she assumes is his food for the day. “So, we got a new case literally just a few minutes ago.”

Arthur’s face lights up in curiosity. “What's the subject?”

“Lower East Side, young African American woman assaulted at a college party.” Morgana lets out a small huff of breath as she reads further into the details of the case. “Took guts to come forward, no doubt, especially considering that her assailants were mostly described as white.” As she reads off a few more details of the case, she can't help but hate the world. The fact that shit like this can happen- that she has seen the aftermath of it firsthand- it's fucking disgusting. 

God, does she sometimes hate her job. Every time she sees a case like this, she has to remind herself of how good it feels to close a case and put one of these bastards in jail.

“So,” Morgana says as she finishes reading. “Pendragon, what do you think about the case?”

She realizes that Arthur hasn't said anything in a few minutes, which is incredibly uncharacteristic of him. She glances up from her file to see Arthur staring at one of his, face slightly pale. (Well, paler than normal, that is. Arthur's one of the whitest people she knows.)

 _Fuck, this must be a_ really _Bad Day._

She swallows. “Pendragon,” she says, trying to make her tone soft. She's not very good at gentle, even toward her best friend. She's more of a _grow-a-pair-and-pull-yourself-out-of-the-mud_ kind of person. She's sharp, never soft. But Arthur...sometimes he _does_ need soft, and she cares about him so she tries.

He doesn't look up at her, so she tries again, a little bit louder. “Pendragon!”

His gaze snaps up to meet hers. “Yeah, Le Fay?”

“You good?” she asks, and after a moment of hesitation he nods his head.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he says, and snaps closed the file in his hands. He slides it into the small pile on his desk, and she’s curious but she doesn’t want to press. She knows that on Bad Days it’s hard for Arthur to concentrate on conversations, and sometimes a distraction is just what he needs.

Arthur sets his right elbow down on the table and braces his head with his hand. She winces at the wear and tear this familiar action does to the fabric of his suit- they don’t get paid _that_ much, and Arthur’s suit is actually quite nice. She doesn’t like to see fabric that quality get soiled.

“So,” Arthur says, “Sorry I zoned out. You were talking about the Lower East Side?”

Morgana nods, and works her way back into the case. They have a job to do, and distractions are always nice for dealing with the Bad Days, even if the effects are seldom long-lasting.

(And besides, Morgana's got the feeling that giving Arthur a way to solve cases, to help people, is even more helpful than the idea of a distraction in itself.)

-

(Here is something they don't tell you: the Bad Days last. They don't go away after a year, or even two. They don't go away when the bastard is arrested, when he dies, when your family finds out and tries to comfort you. They seep into the bones, infect the blood, fuck with the mind.

The Bad Days are like the symptoms of any other illness: they stay. And they hurt.)

-

By five they’ve wrapped up work for the day. Yesterday they’d worked extra hours as they often do, but Wednesdays are sacred and everyone in the department who cares knows that this pair of partners is _always_ out (bar emergencies) by 5 on Wednesdays.

“You got your change of clothes with you?” Morgana asks as she grabs her suit jacket from the back of her chair.

Arthur nods and pulls out his satchel from under his desk. It’s unzipped and inside, she can glimpse a crumpled-up pair of jeans and a loose red t-shirt. One thing’s for certain- Arthur may be brilliant, one of the best detectives on the force, but when it comes to organization he doesn’t seem to give a shit.

“Alright, I’ll meet you at the car in seven,” she says.

“Make it five,” he says with a small smile, and she’s thankful to see that the Bad Day has mostly gone away. His face is still kinda pale and his expression isn’t entirely back to normal, but he is making an attempt at humor.

She goes to the office bathroom and makes a quick outfit change- putting her suit on the hangers in her bag and sliding on one of her many black, white, and color dresses. Today’s is a long-sleeved green top with a flaring black-and-white-striped skirt. She puts on her extra rings (policy is only a single, unjeweled band allowed while on duty) and her necklace, pulling her hair into a quick braid and retouching her makeup before exiting. She feels a lot better now.

(She has no problem with her usual work suit- it’s what’s necessary for providing a uniform look, which allows better performance while on the job- but she can’t deny that she prefers her dresses and jewelry more. No matter the comments Cenred made about her clothing, she still keeps to what she likes.)

(That douche can shove his opinions where the sun don't shine, that's how much she cares about them.)

“Nice dress, Le Fay!” Detective Laurent calls as Morgana exits the precinct. “Got a hot date?”

“You wish, Laurent!” Morgana shouts back to the brunette woman, who she knows has a husband at home. Kara Laurent grins before turning back to her partner, Alice Taratsas.

She pulls the keys out of her bag as she spots Arthur already leaning against the passenger door, rubbing that battered leather jacket of his up against the dirty door. Once again she winces at the disregard he shows his clothing. The man is one of the best people she knows but _honestly_ , can’t he afford to take care of his things?

She double pokes the button on her keys and is awarded by the tell-tale _beep beep_ of the car unlocking. It startles Arthur enough to make him look up from the screen of his phone. He opens his door just as she gets to the car and opens the back door, dropping her bag off in the seat behind the driver’s. Arthur tosses his satchel over his shoulder and into the backseat as she closes the backdoor and steps forward to open the driver’s. She slips in, turning the keys in the ignition to start the car.

“To Botticelli’s?” she asks, and he rolls his eyes.

“To Botticelli’s, of course.”

-

The restaurant is as familiar as always- low level hum of chatter, smell of tomatoes and garlic, and walls plastered with paintings of Italy that she's pretty sure the owner's sister painted. Everything here is calm and comfortable, a reassuring familiarity.

(It is kind of strange, though, that the man in the corner isn’t here- he comes here every other Wednesday with a Latina teenaged girl that Morgana figured out was his stepdaughter within a few weeks of their group starting to eat here instead of the bar. Today _should_ be a Wednesday that he’s here, but the corner booth is empty.)

Bronwen, one of the regular hostesses, recognizes them and points them to their normal section. “The other three are here already,” she says.

“Thanks,” Arthur says as he practically yanks Morgana in the direction of his boyfriend, and despite her two-year-long hesitation over Merlin, she can't help but be somewhat fond of how happy Merlin makes Arthur.

When they reach the table, Merlin jumps up and greets Arthur with a kiss, and Morgana catches her best friend grinning as she slips into her usual seat near the end of the table, next to Arthur and across from Gwaine. Gwen's at the far end of the table, texting somebody (from the little Morgana knows about her, it's probably one of her co-workers, maybe that theater teacher Morgana can't remember the name of), though she does look up from her phone and give Arthur and Morgana a smile as they sit down.

The utter happiness that Gwen has, the constant smiles and the like, gets on Morgana's nerves on a pretty regular basis. How can anyone be that insanely optimistic about anything? Even Merlin's not that bad.

The only person she wants to be smiling like that is Arthur, who for at least this moment does seem to be happy. Though she will inevitably tease him about it, she does prefer him to be happy than for him to be having a Bad Day. If these group dinners are what it takes to alleviate the Bad Days, then she'll put up with Merlin and Gwen's optimism and Arthur's obvious lovesickness for Merlin.

And, well, there's at least one person at this table that she can put up with, since Arthur's inevitably going to be distracted by his boyfriend. At least Gwaine isn't as sickeningly happy. He's even a certain amount of fun to be around, with his interesting political opinions and his seemingly endless source of history facts, even if he  _is_ a flirt.

(Morgana does enjoy these dinners, if she lets herself admit it. Which she often won't.)

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys all like this story. I have no idea of the update schedule, though I will try to update as quickly as possible. As usual, comments are a writer's lifeblood and will definitely motivate me to write faster as I always try to work a bit more on the stories that other people are as invested in as I am.


End file.
